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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26907076">Deja Vu</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Likedeadends/pseuds/Likedeadends'>Likedeadends</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>And falling in love again, Falling In Love, M/M, and falling in love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:47:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,145</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26907076</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Likedeadends/pseuds/Likedeadends</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The practical parts of Mark's brain tell him destiny and soulmates don't exist. The practical parts of Mark's brain never considered Johnny.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Deja Vu</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mark remembers sometime in high school when he heard deja vu was just your brain struggling to input a new memory correctly. He can't pinpoint exactly where he heard it from, psychology or biology or a stray google search. He used to listen when his mother told him deja vu happened when you were meeting someone you knew in a past life, your soul was trying to reignite the connection. School trained that out of him.</p><p>He doesn’t get deja vu often. Sometimes he’ll be walking to work or across campus and get the feeling that he's seen these things before, but that could easily be the byproduct of walking the same path every day, with the same friends, and the same thermos tucked under his arm.</p><p>He doesn't think about it a lot, because he doesn't need to. There are more important things to worry about and if his brain short circuits every once and awhile, who cares?</p><p>Then he meets Johnny.</p><p>Mark, by virtue of who he is as a person, avoids frat parties as much as he can. He's social to a point and the mix of jocks, cheap beer, and shitty music is just beyond that point for him. However, Donghyuck has a pretty convincing pout and offers pulls from Yuta's flask should Mark so desire. </p><p>They're celebrating finals being over. Mark takes a shot before they leave their dorms.</p><p>It's not awful when they get there, fashionably late at Donghyuck's insistence. The crowd is pretty evenly dispersed and Mark can pick out at least three different corners to go hide in if he decides he's over it before Donghyuck is.</p><p>Well, maybe it’s a little awful. They're barely across the threshold when someone knocks right into Mark's side, sloshing some unknown liquid down his shirt and left pant leg. Mark, for what it's worth, tries his hardest not to get upset. It's a party, he was bound to get messy anyways.</p><p>He shoos away the hand of the stranger trying to pat at the stain like it will make any difference. Then he looks up.</p><p>The world stops.</p><p>Mark has never seen a face like that before.</p><p>He knows what deja vu feels like. He knows the vague feeling of ‘I’ve done this before.’</p><p>This isn't it. </p><p>The buzz of the party fades away and Mark is stuck in honey pot eyes and plush lips parted softly in a mirror of Mark's own surprise. Something tugs in his chest. Is this yearning? He’s never seen a face like that before. But it feels like he's come home.</p><p>The moment ends as quickly as it began. What seemed to stretch a second beyond its own limitations is gone in a flash. The music is playing (Justin Bieber) and Mark's leg is wet. The guy is hot. He's still human, though, too clumsy or too drunk to keep track of his drink.</p><p>This is deja vu.</p><p>"I'm sorry, man. Wasn't looking where I was going." There's something teasing at the back of Mark's mind when he hears the voice. Nothing to write home about, he's dealt with enough midwestern riff-raff to call himself an expert. He doesn't want to cause problems though, so he just shrugs.</p><p>"No worries, dude. Tomorrow's laundry day, anyways." It isn't. Mark just pulled these jeans from the dryer.</p><p>"Let me make you a drink to make it up to you? I know where the good stuff is." He leans down conspiratorially. Mark isn't going to turn down a drink he doesn't have to share with the threat of Yuta's backwash.</p><p>"Lead the way."</p><p>The stranger grins, taking Mark by the elbow and pulling him through the thrumming crowd. Mark manages to spare a glance back to Donghyuck before he gets lost in the party. Donghyuck looks like the cat who got the cream, brows wiggling and making a vaguely explicit motion with his hands. Mark's cheeks go three shades darker and he turns back around, vowing not to think about it.</p><p>"My name's Johnny, by the way." And, okay, that sounds familiar. Mark isn't in a frat, nor is he too good of friends with anyone who is, but Johnny could be the Johnny that rooms with Jaehyun from Anatomy. Maybe that's where Mark has seen him before.</p><p>"Mark." He offers, close to Johnny's side as they make space for themselves in the kitchen. It's a little more crowded here, since everyone wants to be close to the tap when they first arrive. It's nice at Johnny's side though, so Mark doesn't mind.</p><p>"What's your poison, Mark?" Johnny asks, ducking into a cabinet beneath the sink. God, he takes up a lot of space. Those legs.</p><p> Mark tries to think of something that sounds cool and comes up blank.</p><p>"I'm good with anything."</p><p>--</p><p>"Well, we've really only got moonshine and beer. Unless ya got money for the top shelf." Mark has this conversation once a week, leaned up against the bar and trying his best to look like he belongs. The best thing about booze joins is they don’t really care how old you are. Prohibition made drinking outside of the house illegal for anyone, regardless of age. </p><p>Mark never wants the moonshine. He doesn’t have the money for the Canadian whiskey. He takes the beer. </p><p>John is behind the bar, grinning impishly and already sliding it over. Mark doesn’t really come here for the drinks, anyways. They’re pretty watered down, no matter how much John plays the salesman. </p><p>Mark’s here for the music. The jazz is better than any other place in town. He comes on Friday nights when his favorite birds are on stage, covered in red and demanding attention. </p><p>Mark never strays from the bar. He watches from afar, sips his watery beer, taps his foot to the beat, and makes small talk with John. </p><p>There’s always been something familiar about him. The first time Mark came in, John was playing bouncer and laughed right in Mark’s face when he got the password wrong. It didn’t sting like rejection, though, Mark felt like the breath was being squeezed out of him. Who was this man? </p><p>He gave Mark a redo and then served him moonshine at half price later on to apologize for the trouble. </p><p>So maybe it’s not the music that keeps Mark coming back, either. It’s the rush he feels when he comes in through back doors, looks across the dance floor, and sees John looking back at him from behind the bar. </p><p>It’s safer like that, with them separated by the wood top and prying eyes. Mark doesn’t trust his hands, otherwise. Especially not when they're under the influence. As it is, John wipes the bar near Mark’s spot a little more than necessary and at least once a night Mark feels a brush of fingers fleeting across his forearm. There and gone in a moment, but burning for the rest of the evening. </p><p>It’s no different tonight. Mark’s left hand lingers on bartop, fingers tapping along happily (the closest to the swingers he’s gonna get). John is amiable beside him, coming to make comments when he’s between serving guests. </p><p>“I always think maybe one of these nights I’ll see you out there dancing. I bet you do a mean foxtrot.” </p><p>—</p><p>“You know my parents never put me in lessons, Youngho.” Minhyung gripes, arms crossed petulantly and refusing to get up from the bench. They  meet in the courtyard almost every night, guided by moonlight and the safety of guards who don’t ask questions.</p><p>“Would you let me teach you, then? What if someone asks for your hand at the ball?” That is the infuriating thing about Youngho: he always has an answer. That and he is impossibly handsome. </p><p>“Why would they ask for my hand when the king’s most sought after Knight is available?” Youngho laughs humorlessly. They have this back and forth often. Minhyung doesn’t mind being the fifth son, there’s a distinct lack of responsibility for him to shoulder. It also makes him a little invisible, which he still doesn’t mind. It’s not as important for him to marry, which is part of the reason why he’s granted such leniency with Youngho. </p><p>“You always look lovely in your formal attire. And if no one else wishes to dance with you, you know I will.” Minhyung hates the way Youngho says it. Ever since they were young, the elder would be resolute in the fact that he would stay by Minhyung’s side. </p><p>It didn’t make much sense to the young prince, though he grew into it with age. When Youngho left the palace on hunts or for trades, Minhyung felt distinctly like something was missing. It was awful. </p><p>“Yes, well, you can just teach me on the ballroom floor, I suppose. Tonight you were meant to finish that story you were telling me.” Minhyung is not feeling up for dancing. Especially not when he could get Youngho tucked into the corner of their gazebo, heads close and voices low, daring a press of ips from time to time if they felt so inclined. </p><p>“Alright, alright. Where were we?” He concedes, finally settling in beside Minhyung and bringing his familiar warmth with him</p><p>“Magic. The cottage in the forest.” </p><p>-- </p><p>They meet when they are very young. </p><p>The witch had always been alone. Nature raised him. The animals and the trees and the rain— he learned Magic from whispers in the breeze and birdsongs. </p><p>The little human comes to him one day, along the river and cheeks ruddy with tears. They speak different languages. The little human seemingly was not fluent in any and the witch was used to talking through energy more than words. </p><p>They figure it out quickly. The witch teaches the human everything he can and the human listens, wide eyed. He stops crying. They are as inseparable as they can be. The little human comes and goes and the forest seems to accommodate that, weeds never grow over his typical path. </p><p>They grow through many moons together, meeting and talking and learning together. The human tries to help in the garden. (The forest gently course corrects him from time to time). </p><p>They figure out love together, too. When they’re much older and the human goes from visiting to simply living with the witch. </p><p>“You look beautiful today,” the witch says, hand clasped in his lover’s. They’re out in the fields, just walking together and enjoying the first blooms of spring. </p><p>“You look beautiful everyday.” The human returns, lifting their joined hands and brushing his lips across the witch’s knuckles. “I never want to lose you.” </p><p>They’re mourning the loss of the human’s mother. Winter was harsh that year, thick blankets of snow that brought sickness and lasted beyond most everyone’s stores for the season. The human looks at his witch from time to time, fearing the day they are forced to part as well. </p><p>“You won’t, love. I’ll make sure of it.”The breeze was gentle and whispering in the witch’s ear. Ingredients and incantations and something that promised forever to the pair of them.</p><p>“Don’t lie to me.” The human says softly, arm nudging into the witch’s side in warning. </p><p>“I swear I would never lie to you.”</p><p>That night the witch works almost until the sun comes back over the horizon again. Sweating over his cauldron, muttering incantations until his throat burns. His mind is just mental images of himself and his human. Forever. When he’s finished, he wakes his precious love. They share the elixir from the same cup and then a chaste kiss. </p><p>They lay in each other’s arms that night, unaware they are sharing the same dreams.</p><p>-- </p><p>“Do you trust me? I’m like magic with mixing drinks.” Johnny says, popping back up with a couple bottles in his hands. He looks pretty pleased with himself and Mark isn’t going to argue. </p><p>“Sure, man. Do your thing.” </p><p>Johnny wasn’t really waiting for an answer, anyway.</p><p>His back was turned to Mark, chasing away some overeager freshmen to make room on the counter. Mark watches and tries not to be impressed with Johnny. He’s not even doing anything exciting. It’s a bottle of cheap vodka in his left hand and lemonade in the other. He is literally just pouring those two liquids together. God. Why is Mark impressed by this? </p><p>Johnny hands the drink to Mark with a proud grin. There isn’t even ice in it. Mark’s heart skips a beat. </p><p>“Okay, give it a shot. I’m up to take criticism.” </p><p>Mark takes a sip. He shivers. It tastes like magic. That could just be the one to one ratio talking, though. </p><p>“It’s... good. Feels like summer.” Okay, good save, Lee. </p><p>“Thanks!” Johnny grins, takes a pull from his own drink, then looks at Mark a little more seriously.</p><p>“Hey, have we met before?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>#31resonance day 8: deja vu </p><p>I am really on a roll with these ones. I keep saying I'm just gonna write something short and then there are 2,000+ words staring back at me. Anyways this was really fun and maybe I'm not as scared of writing Mark anymore as I used to be. </p><p>Thanks for reading! You can find me on twt @/suhjpeg if ya like.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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